


A Study in Relaxation

by AgentInfinity



Series: Porn!AU [8]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anxiety, Art Galleries, BDSM, Blow Jobs, D/s, Dirty Talk, Dom!Jehan, Dom/sub, Edgeplay, Erotic Electrostimulation, Fighting Kink, Flogging, Kink, Knifeplay, M/M, Mocking, Nipple Clamps, Nipple Play, Orgasm Denial, Physical Altercations, Porn With Plot, Restraints, Riding Crops, Subspace, Threesome - M/M/M, Violet Wand, dom!Enjolras, kink discussion, lightly though. nothing that will make grantaire feel badly about himself, porn au, ring gags, rope binding, sub!R, thinly veiled threats from jehan, two dummies in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 09:35:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7885924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentInfinity/pseuds/AgentInfinity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire finds himself in a bit of a occupation-related crisis, and Enjolras helps him.  And then, Jehan and Enjolras help him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> These characters are not mine, but the mistakes are all my own. Heed the tags, which will be added to when the second chapter goes up. Also, I have no idea about how art galleries work unless they are cooperative galleries, and even then my knowledge is thin, so if they are portrayed incorrectly, my apologies.

_“I should put more red near the bottom. And do more layering around the sun. Fuck, where’d I put the cadmium red?”_

“R.”

_“I just opened a new one. Fucking hell, where is…oh. There you are.”_

“Grantaire.” Grantaire squeezes a little more paint onto his palette and grabs his palette knife to start blending more red into the brown shade he’s been using. _“Maybe more of a burnt sienna?”_

“Grantaire, stop.” Someone grabs his arm and spins him, startling him. Enjolras just raises his eyebrows and cocks his head to the side.

“When did you get here?” Grantaire asks, trying to turn back to his work, but is unable to unless his lovely boyfriend lets go or he rips off his arm.

It’s his right arm, which he needs in order to keep painting, so he waits for Enjolras to release him.

“About twenty minutes ago. I watched you work for about ten minutes, and I’ve been trying to get your attention for the other ten.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. You have fascinating conversations with yourself when you’re working,” he says, dryly.

“Thank you.” Grantaire wiggles his arm a bit. “Can I have this back?” Enjolras lets him go, sighing.

“Do you remember what day it is?” He continues to mix his paint, adding a dab of white to brighten it just a little. He thinks he’s been at this for about twelve hours, give or take, so he answers truthfully.

“It’s Tuesday.” He finally gets the shade he needs and grabs a brush, working it into the bottom corner with light, short strokes.

“No, R. It’s Wednesday. Afternoon.”

“Oh, okay.” So, he lost a day, it’s been known to happen. If he wants to get all his work done, he probably won’t get finished until Friday.

“No, Grantaire, it’s not okay. You are going to work yourself into the ground at this rate. You lost a whole day. An entire twenty-four-hour period. If we’re counting what’s on the floor right now, you’ve done seven paintings. I haven’t seen you since Sunday.”

“I’m fine.” He is, _really._ The gallery just moved up the date for the show. By a month. He’s fine, he just has a lot to do.

“You’re not fine. When was the last time you ate?” Enjolras has a hand pressed to his back, the other on his shoulder pulling backward.

“Earlier,” is all he says, because he’s not sure. He had a granola bar this morning, maybe? Or was it yesterday morning. He definitely drank some water today, though, because he’d taken a break to pee an hour or so ago. That doesn’t happen unless you drink something, right?

“Grantaire, put the palette down.” He turns to face Enjolras, but doesn’t obey him.

“Enjolras, I’m _fine_. The gallery moved the opening up by a fucking month. I have so much to do. Plus, those commissions I already had. Really, I’ll be done soon. Give me, like, three days. Three days, and we can have a date night. Or a movie night. Or a sex night. Any of those. But I have to work right now.” If he stops, this roll he’s on will stutter out and it’ll take him twice as long to finish. He leans in a gives Enjolras a quick kiss on the lips, pulls his shoulder away from Enjolras as gently as he can, and turns back around.

“Grantaire, I’m serious. Put the palette down or I’m going to make you put the palette down.”

“Jesus christ, Enjolras,” Grantaire says, whirling around to once more face his boyfriend, the menace. “No, I’m not going to _put the palette down_. I’m not going to put my brush down. I’m not leaving this room right now. You are.” Enjolras just looks at him, uncomprehending.

“Get out. I need to work, and you are not conducive to that right now. Go. I’ll call you later.” Grantaire can’t remember throwing ever throwing Enjolras out of his apartment. He asked him to leave once when he was getting sober the second time, but he didn’t go, and Grantaire hadn’t pressed the situation. This time, however, Grantaire is standing his ground.

“It’s Wednesday, R,” Enjolras says, not backing down.

“Yes, you said that already.” Grantaire turns and begins painting again.

“It’s Wednesday. You know, Wednesday, the twenty-fourth?”

“Thank you, Enjolras. If I need more help from a talking calendar, I’ll call you first.”

“Grantaire, today is the day Jehan is coming to do a scene with us. Remember?” Fuck. Yeah, Grantaire remembers now.

A few weeks ago, after a rousing sparring match and resultant sexy times, the pillow talk had evolved into a game of favorites. Favorite food, favorite book, favorite song, etc. They knew a lot about each other, but certain things had gotten lost in the shuffle. For instance, Grantaire knew the foods that Enjolras really liked, but he didn’t know which was his favorite (curry vindaloo from the place on 35th St).

Then, Enjolras had asked who was the best dom Grantaire had ever had. After Grantaire had laughed and answered, _“Really? It’s you. It’s always been you,”_ , Enjolras had asked, _“Other than me then.”_

So, Grantaire had answered honestly. Jehan. Jehan was the first real dom he ever encountered, taught him a lot about himself and the world of BSDM, and got him into the porn business. Jehan didn’t do many shoots, preferring clubs and private sessions to on-camera work, but he did much of Fetish’s set designs on top of his own interior design business.

Lying there on Grantaire’s living room rug, they had talked about a few other inconsequential topics before coming back to Jehan.

_“He’s meaner than me,”_ Enjolras had said, chuckling. 

_“He gets off on tears more than you do, I think.”_

So, an idea had blossomed. The next day, they had lunch with Jehan, and a plan was made. Enjolras and Jehan would both top Grantaire whenever they all had a day free. Which just so happened to be Wednesday the twenty-fourth.

Today. Probably soon-ish since the sun was already moving toward the front of his westward-facing apartment building.

“Fuck.” Enjolras’ lips curl upward for a second, but the grin is short-lived.

“Yes, precisely. Fuck. So, I’m going to take this,” he pries the paintbrush out of Grantaire’s right hand, “and this,” he takes the palette, “and you are going to go shower while I call Jehan and tell him we’re postponing. Then you’re going to eat something and take a nap.”

“Enjolras, I really wasn’t kidding. I need to do this. I’m so fucking excited about kinky three-way fun that I could burst, but there’s no way I can take a night off if I want to get all these pieces done in time.” He tries to take the brush back, but Enjolras is too quick for him.

“Your hands are shaking. Your eyes are bloodshot. You smell. You are going to rest.” Grantaire looks down at his hands and realizes that Enjolras is right. His hands are trembling, and now that he’s taking stock of his body, his back is aching and there’s a low-key buzzing beneath his skin. The beginnings of an anxiety attack. He’d expected one to hit him eventually, but not this soon. Usually, he loses himself for a few days before that happens.

He’s not sure if this is a good sign or a bad one. Does not being able to work deliriously for days on end without having a freak-out mid-session mean he’s getting _more_ sane?

Does it even matter?

“Grantaire, you’re talking to yourself.” Grantaire looks up and meets Enjolras’ worried gaze. Enjolras sets the brush and palette down on the plastic-lined floor and reaches for Grantaire’s face, placing a hand on each cheek. “Please, let me take care you.” He kisses Grantaire softly for a long moment before Grantaire pulls back.

“I haven’t brushed my teeth in a while. And you said it. I’m smelly.” Grantaire’s brain is working on autopilot. Words are coming out without any thought.

“Go shower then. I’ll get you some food.” Grantaire does as Enjolras says and heads to the bathroom. He strips his clothes off and steps under the spray, watching the water turn a myriad of colors as it swirls down the drain. He breathes and tries to think. He lists things.

1\. The gallery’s new show, now opening a month earlier than originally scheduled, is featuring him and one other artist.  
2\. If he doesn’t finish, they could stop showing his artwork.  
3\. He makes a good bit of his income from their showings.  
4\. Which means they make a good bit of money from his pieces.  
5\. If they stop showing his art, they lose money.  
6\. A month is a ridiculous amount of time for them to take away.  
7\. It isn’t worth his hard-fought mental health.  
8\. He’s going to tell them to fuck off if they don’t like it.  
9\. The new gallery director is a dick. Honestly, Brianna was amazing at her job, and they canned her because she ‘no longer shared the same vision for the gallery that the investors did.’ What a load of shit. Poor Brianna.  
10\. He needs to call Brianna.

“Uh, Grantaire?” Enjolras peeks his head around the shower curtain.

“Yeah?” Grantaire asks.

“You’ve been in here for thirty minutes. I was just checking on you.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize it’d been that long.” He doesn’t feel shaky or anxious anymore. The mental list helped. Now, he’s tired and fucking starving. That granola bar must have been yesterday.

“Here, I’ll help you out.” Before Grantaire can ask, _’Help out with what?’_ , Enjolras is naked and climbing into the shower. He quickly soaps up Grantaire’s hair, digging his fingers into Grantaire’s scalp and rubbing deliciously. Grantaire rinses his hair and allows Enjolras to wash the rest of him too. When Grantaire waggles his eyebrows as Enjolras rubs the cloth over his cock, Enjolras just swats him on the ass and rolls his eyes.

“You literally haven’t eaten since probably yesterday at the latest, you’re leaning on the wall for support, and you told me to get out. We aren’t having sex today.”

“Yes, Sir.” Grantaire grins as Enjolras shoves the washcloth against his chest and steps out of the shower.

“Rinse off and get dressed. Jehan is bringing over some takeout since all you have in your kitchen is molded bread, pickles, and coffee.”

“Love you too, baby,” Grantaire says, feeling much more like himself after the shower. He takes time to shave before pulling on some basketball shorts and a t-shirt and heading to the kitchen where Jehan is pulling Chinese takeout containers out of a bag.

“Grantaire, I hear you’ve fallen into the ways of the recluse as of late.”

“Unfortunately, yes. I had a lapse in judgement.”

“It happens to the best of us.”

“So, does that mean it happens to you or Enjolras?” he asks, snagging a container of chicken fried rice and digging in, not even bothering to sit down.

“Cosette. She’s the best of us.”

“Yeah, that sounds right,” Grantaire says around a mouthful of chicken and rice. Enjolras and Jehan take seats facing him at the breakfast bar with their food, talking and joking lightly while Grantaire eats and lets the noise wash over him. He would join in, but then he’d have to stop constantly shoveling food into his face, so he doesn’t. Enjolras shoves a bottle of water into his hands at some point, and he chugs half the bottle in one go.

“…what do you think, R?” Enjolras is saying.

“Huh?” he replies intelligently. Enjolras looks at Jehan and nods.

“What Jehan and I were just saying was that you need sleep and we should reschedule our…” Enjolras trails off, making a vague gesture between the three of them.

“Ménage à trois, I believe, is the phrase you’re looking for, dear,” Jehan finishes for him.

“Oh, yeah. I can’t do anything like you were planning today,” he says, washing his food down with another gulp of water.

“This weekend?” Jehan suggests.

“I have a shoot on Saturday, but I’m free Sunday,” Enjolras offers.

“I think I’m actually working that one with you,” Jehan says. “But, Sunday works for me too.”

“Uh, I don’t have any shoots this week, but I really do need to paint. Even if I plan on telling the gallery to fuck off with their unrealistic expectations.” Enjolras raises an eyebrow at him, mouth set in a firm line.

“You are to take care of yourself, though. No more frenzied, three-day long paint binges.”

“What else am I going to spend three days at a time binging on, though?” he asks, grinning.

“I’m fucking serious, R. You were delirious. You lost weight. In three days.” _I’m worried about you,_ he doesn’t say out loud. Grantaire feels like an asshole, but he can’t help how his brain works. The smile on his face dims to a grimace.

“I can’t make any promises, but I can try. That’s the best I can do.” Enjolras nods. He doesn’t like it, but he knows Grantaire. He has to know Grantaire’s brain is fucked up, even if he vehemently dismisses it whenever Grantaire makes some kind of self-deprecating comment.

“Well, just know that if you scare us like that again, I can make you regret it,” Jehan informs him offhandedly as he breaks open a fortune cookie and scans the tiny slip of paper. “Look, I can now say ‘duck’ in Chinese. I wonder if this is Mandarin or Cantonese.” Jehan spends a minute repeating the word for ‘duck’ while Enjolras finishes his pineapple chicken and allows Grantaire to steal a few pieces over his shoulder. Grantaire’s food has long been gone.

“I meant it, though, Grantaire,” Jehan says after a while. They’ve taken to Grantaire’s couch for friendly cuddling and television.

“Meant what?” he says, still having a little trouble following conversations.

“Don’t lose yourself if you can help it. Give someone a call. Get me?” Grantaire shivers at his tone of voice. He is definitely more afraid of Jehan than Enjolras.

“Yes, Sir.”

***

On Saturday, following two more days of less-feverish painting, Grantaire goes to the gallery and tells them that if they expect him to paint his fingers to the bone, that he’s going to walk. The new director, Jim or Jerry or James or something, nods in mock understanding and tells him that they could probably push it back a week. Grantaire informs him that that is _still_ three weeks earlier than originally scheduled, and that _they are an art gallery for fuck’s sake, what could possibly have come up that they need to move up an opening?_ To which JimJerryJames replies that it’s better for business.

So, Grantaire walks. Or rather, Grantaire tells him that he fucking quits, he relinquishes his current paintings over to them as per his contract, and that he sincerely hopes someone kicks him in his smug face. _Then_ he walks.

On his way out, Grantaire sends up a wish or prayer or whatever that the director doesn’t end up dead soon, since he just threatened the man in the middle of the day in front of no less than ten witnesses.

A light, giddy feeling washes over him followed quickly by a dreadful anxiety. He makes enough by commissions and porn alone to sustain his cost of living, but losing his contract with the gallery is still kind of a blow to his bank account. He’s been putting back money since he was given the contract in an account for Annabelle for college or traveling or whatever she wants to do. He has some money squirreled away in case of emergencies too.

It’s a hard habit to break after coming up from literally nothing. You shove and stash and hide what little you have for fear of someone taking it.

He doesn’t acknowledge that it’s also a blow to his rickety self-worth.

He buys a box of donuts and goes to Eponine’s, hoping she’s off today. She works during the week as an office manager at one of the local free clinics and fills in some weekends as a bartender or waitress in a few places.

Gavroche opens the door and makes a ‘shushing’ motion with his finger at his lips. He lets Grantaire in and goes back to his muted video game.

“What’s up?” he whispers as he silently mows down insurgents. Grantaire sets the box of donuts down on the coffee table. Gav opens the box, digs out a chocolate glazed, and shoves it into his mouth without missing a beat in the game.

“Just wanted to talk to Ep for a minute if she was free. I won’t bother her, though, if she’s sleeping.” Gavroche chews for a few minutes, the donut vanishing bit by bit into his mouth like a snake eating a rat.

“She worked yesterday at the clinic and then went in and worked ‘til two last night at The Nova.”

“Yep, definitely not gonna bother her then,” he says quietly. He watches as Gavroche fulfills two more objectives before saving his game.

“Wanna play?” Gav holds out another controller.

“Sure,” he says, taking the offered controller and settling in more comfortably on the couch. Gavroche selects a multiplayer game that has them competing to capture a flag in enemy territory, and they play whilst very quietly calling each other names.

“So, what did you need to talk to Ep about?” Gav asks after slaughtering Grantaire for the fifth time in a row.

“Eh, stuff.”

“C’mon, man. I’m good with advice too.” The kid’s not lying, Grantaire knows. He might only be fifteen, but he’s bright and intuitive like his sister.

“Okay, fine. I ended my contract with the gallery. They got a new director, and we didn’t see eye to eye.” Gavroche side-eyes him briefly before returning his attention to their game.

“Why didn’t you go see Enjolras about it?”

“He had, ah, work today,” Grantaire verbally stumbles.

“He had a porno to do, you mean,” Gavroche says, a little laugh escaping. They don’t hide things from the kid, but they also don’t flaunt what they do in front of him.

“Yes, that’s what I meant, Gav. He is shooting a pornographic film today, and thus, busy.” Enjolras had kissed Grantaire that morning before he left and promised to drop by around five with the ingredients for fish tacos. Grantaire had grumbled something unintelligible about dating a saint and gone back to sleep.

“How much money are you gonna lose from the gallery?”

“Not enough that I’ll starve or lose my apartment, but it’s not insignificant,” Grantaire sighs.

“How much money do you need to start your own? You can do that, right?” Grantaire dies again, and he takes the opportunity to stare at the side of Gav’s head.

“I have no idea. How is that the next logical step upon ending your contract with an art gallery? ‘Open your own, Grantaire. You just need a lot of money, a building, artists, some business permits of some kind, and investors. No big.’”

“Well, you already have a to-do list there. You keep having issues with galleries, and there are only two in the city.” Grantaire was let go from his contract with the other gallery in the city shortly after they found out he did porn. He drunkenly made a scene when they told him, and it wasn’t a pretty one. “You can get a loan, right? And, if you open your own, Feuilly can put his sculptures in there. And Musichetta can show her photos. And Jehan can decorate it. I’m sure your boyfriend can help with something that isn’t porn. He’s gotta be smart at something if you’re with him.” Gav kills him again. Jesus christ, this kid’s ability to multitask is frightening.

“Yeah, kid, he’s good for more than porn.”

“I figured.”

Grantaire spends another hour there, repeatedly getting his ass handed to him by a tenth-grader, before quietly bidding Gavroche farewell. Half the donuts are gone, but there’s still four regular glazed ones and two boston crème-filled left. Eponine’s favorites.

Grantaire goes to the gym and takes his frustration out on the heavy bag, but it doesn’t help him clear his head as much as he’d like. There’s no one there he knows well enough to spar with, so he tries out the weight room for a while. Once he grows bored with lifting heavy things over and over, he never was much for weight-lifting, he showers quickly and shoves his stuff back into his locker, his mind a bit quieter and able to contemplate Gavroche’s idea.

There’s no way he could do it on his own, but he’s not on his own now, right? He’s got a network of people he loves and seem to tolerate him in return. Or more than tolerate him, actually. He believes them most of the time when they say they love him. Lighting a cigarette, he sucks smoke into his lungs as he embarks on the long walk back to his apartment, his brain working overtime the entire way.

By the time he gets home, Enjolras is already there doing the prep work for their dinner. He’s swaying to Otis Redding as he seasons the fish fillets.

“Hey. How was your day?” Grantaire kisses him on the temple before going to the sink to wash his hands.

“Bad at first, now just confusing. How was your day?” He grabs a knife and flips it around easily to start cutting up the slaw ingredients for their tacos. Enjolras tosses a couple pieces of red snapper into a frying pan and throws a bit of pepper on top.

“Not bad. Had some fun with that new electrified butt plug and a very sensitive ass.” He smiles at Grantaire a bit deviously before turning his attention back to the frying fish.

“Well, at least one of us had a productive day.” Grantaire scoops the chopped cabbage and carrot into a bowl and grabs the peppers and onions. “No pulsing this time? Constant electricity?”

“Possibly. The guy came about two seconds after I turned on the juice, so I’m not sure I can trust his account.” Oh man, Grantaire does not envy that guy’s ass for coming without permission. No wonder Enjolras is in such a great mood. “What happened at the gallery?” Enjolras had sweetly offered to call the director on behalf of Grantaire, or _“Really, Grantaire, just let me go down there. I’ll get through to him.”_ Grantaire had kissed his boyfriend soundly and thanked him for the offer but ultimately declined. He’s capable of taking care of his own business. Most days.

He’s still not sure if terminating his contract was taking care of business or letting his business blow up in his face, though.

“I terminated my contract. So, they get to keep the additional profits from anything of mine they sell there. And, I lose a lot of visibility. I pretty much knocked myself back a few squares.” He grabs a lime and slices it in half.

“I doubt you’ll lose much. That new guy was a bureaucratic asshole, and you’re better off without him scheming around your art. You make a ton on commissions these days, don’t you?”

“’A ton’ is a relative term, but yes, I’m doing alright for myself. It’s not actually the money that’s got me down. I just feel like a failure.” He can hear Enjolras take in a deep breath in preparation for a speech about self-worth and individual definitions of greatness. “Stop right there, I know. I can’t help my feelings, Enjolras. I keep telling you that.”

“I know you can’t,” he says, wrapping his arms around Grantaire’s middle from behind and kissing his neck. “I just like to say it.”

“Thank you for your dogged determination and belief that I’ll believe you one day.” Enjolras huffs and smacks him with the spatula.

“So, any idea what you’re gonna do now? Just keep shooting for Fetish and doing commissions?”

“Well, Gavroche pitched the idea of me starting a cooperative gallery with Feuilly and Musichetta.”

“He did?” Grantaire adds one last pinch of salt and gives the slaw a stir. Enjolras flips the fish and tosses some of the lime zest Grantaire left for him into the pan.

“Well, he didn’t use the term ‘cooperative gallery,’ but, yeah. That’s what he meant.”

“He really gets underestimated, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, but he takes great advantage over those who do it. He _is_ a Thénardier.” Enjolras hums thoughtfully.

“So, what do you think about opening your own gallery?”

“I think that I need a few days to figure that out before I talk about it. First step would be figuring out if Feuilly and Musichetta would even be interested. Then finding about ten other artists who would be interested. Then would come all the business shit that I have no idea how to do.”

“Well, Eponine could be the manager, right? She’s got experience in business. If she wanted to, that is.” Enjolras turns the burner off and puts the fish fillets out on a plate to rest before cutting them up.

“Yeah, but it’d be too unstable for her, at least in the beginning. She’s got Gav to support now too.” Grantaire’s mind is starting to get loud again, and when Enjolras touches his hand, he realizes he’s been staring at the floor without seeing it.

“Let’s finish dinner and start a movie,” Enjolras suggests, leaning in and properly kissing Grantaire for the first time since he’d arrived home. Grantaire is so thankful for Enjolras. If he was a religious man, he would thank God or Allah or fucking Kali daily for sending him Enjolras. He knows when to press and when to step back and it makes Grantaire’s life so much easier.

Bellies full and faces flushed from laughter at _Young Frankenstein_ , they fall into bed, lazily trading kisses as articles of clothing are thrown one by one into Grantaire’s bedroom floor until they are both naked. Enjolras continues exploring Grantaire’s mouth with his tongue as he slips a hand down to grasp Grantaire’s cock. It goes from half-hard to completely fucking hard in about two seconds under Enjolras’ ministrations.

“Ah, fuck, E. Yes,” Grantaire moans, bucking his hips upward into Enjolras’ hand. Grantaire licks a stripe upward behind Enjolras’ ear, knowing the reaction he’ll get, the one he always gets from licking that spot. He’s not disappointed. Enjolras gasps and shivers, goosebumps overtaking territories of skin on his arms and legs. His grip around Grantaire tightens fractionally, but he doesn’t move any faster.

“R, I want you to fuck me.” Grantaire freezes, unable to continue peppering kisses over Enjolras’ lovely clavicles after that sentence.

“You…what?” he asks, not sure he heard correctly.

“I want you to fuck me,” he says again, like it’s the most normal fucking thing in the universe. Grantaire’s neurons are unable to fire correctly for a bit, but he manages after a few seconds to continue with the verbosity Enjolras is used to hearing from him.

“Um, now? I mean, why now?” It was a question he needed to ask, but it could have been phrased a tad better.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while, but I just never found the right time to bring it up. We’re always either hurriedly fucking or discussing scenes or too busy to even text regularly, and it just never seemed right. But, I want to.”

“Of course I will, E. Jesus, for future reference, just anytime at all will work. During dinner, in a text, leave me a note, anything.” Enjolras laughs and the tenseness in his muscles evaporates. “How long has it been for you?” he asks. Enjolras never subs, and from what Grantaire remembers, hadn’t had a boyfriend in quite some time before they got together.

“Three years, I’d say. Give or take.”

“Fucking hell. Okay, is it something you usually are able to come from? Are you more like me or…?” he tapers off. Even after having periodic spectacular anal sex with Enjolras for close to a year, he still has to be in a very specific mood for it to be enjoyable for him.

“I think, when I’m in the mood for it, I like it more than you do.”

“And you wanna do this tonight?”

“Yeah, if you feel up to it?”

“Are you kidding me?” Grantaire asks, incredulous. He rolls on top of Enjolras and kisses him hungrily, rubbing their cocks together and swallowing down the moan Enjolras gives him. He pulls back enough to see Enjolras’ face, making sure he’s still on board. Even here, in his (their) bed with no plans on tying anyone up or hurting them, his brain is still hung up on constant consent.

He doesn’t even have to say anything.

“Yes, Grantaire. Get the lube.” Grantaire chuckles and leans in to leave a trail of kisses down the side of his neck. He reaches between them to stroke Enjolras lightly as he continues kissing down Enjolras’ chest, taking time to suck on a nipple and relishing the sharp intake of breath it gets him.

He reaches over and grabs the lube out of his bedside table drawer and then settles himself between Enjolras’ legs. He leans over and presses his lips to one hip bone, running his teeth over it just lightly before moving to the other side to give it the same treatment. Grantaire licks a trail from that beautifully carved hip bone to the base of his cock. Enjolras’ hands are immediately in Grantaire’s hair, the pressure just shy of pushing. He doesn’t shove Grantaire’s head down over his dick, but he does squeeze his hands on either side of Grantaire’s skull, his pupils already blown wide. Grantaire flicks open the bottle of lube and drenches his fingers in it.

Grantaire rubs one slick finger around the rim of Enjolras’ hole, loving how the slightest touches make him twitch and writhe. He presses his finger more insistently, and the second it starts to breach him, Grantaire leans over and slides his mouth all the way down Enjolras’ cock. Enjolras gasps and pulls at Grantaire’s hair, unable to decide on a direction. It seems that he’s just holding on for dear life.

“Oh, sweet fuck, Grantaire,” he groans as Grantaire works his finger farther inside and continues to deep-throat him. Grantaire smiles as much as he can with a mouthful of cock at the unrecognizable sounds coming from his boyfriend. He’s never seen someone come quite so undone on one finger. Once he can easily work his finger in and out of Enjolras, Grantaire slowly adds a second one and searches for that sweet spot. It takes a few thrusts, but he finds it, and as petty payback for all the times Enjolras has tormented him with that little bundle of nerves, he lets him have it. He strokes it again and again, building up pressure on it as he sucks as hard as he can, curling his tongue around the head of Enjolras cock on every upward slide.

Enjolras cries out brokenly by the time Grantaire slides a third finger inside him. Enjolras grasps him tightly, oh god, he is so tight, his fingers are shoved on top of each other as he continues to work him open. With an obscene _pop_ , Grantaire pulls up off Enjolras’ pretty cock and leans down farther to lick around the rim of Enjolras’ hole.

“Grantaire, oh god, oh fuck!” Enjolras shouts, his hands tightening once more in Grantaire’s hair. Grantaire takes a break to look up at Enjolras and finds he could come from the sight alone if he wanted.

Enjolras is utterly delirious in pleasure. His head is thrown back, mouth open and panting, skin sweaty and glistening. Breathy words are falling from his lips as he lifts his hips to give Grantaire a better angle. He returns his tongue to Enjolras’ rim as he scissors his fingers, widening him as much as possible. When his fingers can lie side-by-side as he fucks Enjolras on them, he returns his mouth to Enjolras’ cock and sucks him straight down his throat only a handful of times before Enjolras shouts his name and comes. Grantaire swallows everything, waiting until Enjolras is completely spent before pulling off him.

He removes his fingers and slicks his cock with more lube, waiting for Enjolras to come back to himself before proceeding.

“Enjolras, look at me,” he says, voice gone deep and husky. Enjolras does, and he is a fucking sight. His eyes are impossibly dark, face flushed, mouth curved into a sated smile. “Are you still good with this?”

“R, fuck me please,” he asks, fucking _asks_ , voice raspy from use. Grantaire leans down and kisses his mouth, the mouth that was singing his praises seconds ago, as he slowly guides his cock to Enjolras’ entrance and pushes gently. When he’s halfway in, he stops because jesus fucking fuck, Enjolras is wet and hot and so, so tight. He feels like he could come any second if he’s not careful, so he breathes and takes in Enjolras’ face. He sees no traces of pain there, only lust and love and _want._ When Grantaire feels like he can move again without coming embarrassingly fast, he moves in and out shallowly, working more of himself inside with every thrust until he is all the way inside.

Enjolras pants, shifting his hips as much as Grantaire will let him, trying to get Grantaire to move.

Grantaire obliges, beginning to move slowly, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back in until their thighs meet. Enjolras moans, reaching back to hold onto the headboard. His eyes are open and focused on Grantaire as he moves, drinking him in.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he says quietly, and Grantaire can’t take it anymore. He snaps Enjolras’ legs up onto his shoulders and picks up the pace, the bedframe smacking into the wall loudly with every thrust. Enjolras is keening with his eyes tightly shut, his cock almost completely hard again.

“I’ve had fantasies about this for as long as I’ve known you,” Grantaire murmurs over the slap of skin and Enjolras’ unabashed groans. “I’ve wondered what you’d feel like wrapped around my cock, so tight, drawing me in, but my imagination was _nothing_ compared to this.” He is so close, but he holds out even as he keeps up his rhythm. He reaches down and strokes Enjolras with a tight, fast grip in time with his thrusts. If he’s right, he can angle his hips up just a little more, and, _yes._ Enjolras screams as Grantaire drags his cock across Enjolras’ prostate with every thrust.

“Yes, let me hear you, I want to hear you, I want everything,” he says, not even knowing what he’s saying, but the words feel right tumbling out of his mouth. “Tell me, Enjolras.”

“God, you feel so fucking good, don’t stop, please, just a little more, FUCK!” Enjolras cries out, his body going rigid. He comes again, less forcefully than he did down Grantaire’s throat, but this time, oh. This time, he looks like a portrait of ancient passion. Or a sculpture of some mythological Greek. As he comes, he spasms around Grantaire, his ass growing impossibly tight like he’s holding on to Grantaire with every fiber of his being, and between that and the sight of such a completely debauched Enjolras, Grantaire follows him over the edge.

For a long time, they just lie there and gasp for breath. Grantaire still has Enjolras’ legs on his shoulders, bending him in a surely uncomfortable way, but Enjolras doesn’t complain or try to move.

“Oh my god, Grantaire, you’ve been holding out on me,” Enjolras says after a few tries. His voice is shaky and raspy, which is something new for Grantaire’s ears, and he greedily wants to hear it again and again.

“Same to you. Jesus,” Grantaire manages to say. He finally rests Enjolras’ legs back down on the ruined bedsheets and tumbles sideways to lie beside him. They just lie there and pant until their breaths slow and become less harsh.

“Grantaire, I had no idea you could fuck like that. Holy shit,” Enjolras says, laughing.

“I am a man of few talents, but fucking is one of them,” he replies. He leans over and kisses Enjolras deeply, trying to show him how much he loves him, how much it means to him that Enjolras asked him to do that. After a few moments, Grantaire has to pull back to catch his breath, and Enjolras sighs happily.

“If you keep kissing me like that, you’re gonna have to burn your sheets. I can’t get it up again, but I sure want to.” This startles a laugh out of Grantaire, a genuinely full one. Enjolras smiles at the sound but doesn’t say anything.

“All right, let’s go shower,” Grantaire says, pulling Enjolras upright when he doesn’t move. He washes Enjolras, kissing him here and there as he works. Enjolras leans against the shower wall and watches as Grantaire washes himself quickly with far less care. Once they’re both clean and relatively dry, they toss the discarded duvet on top of the sheets and grab one of the extra quilts to sleep under. Snuggled up around Enjolras, sated and immensely happy, all the questions and uncertainties and buzzing anxieties are laid to rest for the night. Grantaire falls into a dreamless sleep within minutes and doesn’t stir all night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The threesome fun will be in the next chapter, which is being written currently. Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think in the comments or at agentxinfinity.tumblr.com. <3<3


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras and Jehan take Grantaire down. Also starring Jehan's new violet wand and cat puns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay folks, if you aren't familiar with violet wands, they use low-current charges to apply something like a static charge to someone. They're pretty versatile when it comes to uses--not always just for pain. That said, I went with the standard way they're used in this because with Jehan using it, I'm sure he'd appreciate the painful aspect of it the most. So, if electro-stimulation isn't your thing, beware. I've added to the tags, so take a look at those. This is a pretty intense scene. If I've missed anything you think needs to be tagged, let me know.
> 
> Enjoy, guys!

Grantaire wakes slowly, his mind floating into consciousness through a warm fog before breaking into open air. Enjolras is snoring lightly, his head pillowed on Grantaire’s shoulder and hair askew. He takes a moment, as warmth floods into his chest, to envision waking this way for the rest of his life. It’s not a thought he allows very often, but Grantaire finds himself unable to banish it in the wake of last night.

The midmorning sun filters through the windows, illuminating dust motes and catching Enjolras’ hair in such a way that his messy curls burn like a halo of white hot fire.

In moments like these, Grantaire is always torn between staying in bed with Enjolras and getting up to sketch him. In the end, he grabs his phone, now with seven percent left on the battery after being neglected in the midst of last night’s activities, and takes a picture. He deftly and one-handedly plugs his phone into the cord left by his bed and relaxes back into the soft pillows, letting his lips brush the top of Enjolras’ head softly.

The next time he wakes, it’s much more abrupt. Someone crawls up between them underneath the quilt and kisses first Grantaire and then Enjolras.

“Good morning, boys,” Jehan says cheerfully.

“Fucking hell, Jehan,” Grantaire curses, trying to get his pulse to slow before he has a heart attack. His arms, already poised to throw the intruder across the room, relax as he instinctively reaches for a cigarette instead from his bedside table.

Enjolras has pulled the quilt over his head and turned away, turning himself into a grumpy, blonde burrito. 

“Morning, Jehan,” the burrito mumbles.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist,” Jehan informs them, not sounding the least bit apologetic. “You looked very cozy.”

“We _were_ ,” Grantaire says without any heat in it.

“I still am,” Enjolras says, voice muffled slightly by the quilt. Grantaire taps the ash from his smoke into an empty soda can on the table and grabs his phone to check for messages.

 _ >gav says you owe him a therapist fee._ \--Eponine

Grantaire taps out a quick reply.

_ >I gave him donuts. What more does he want?_

_ >G said u had a rough day yesterday. U ok?_ \--Bahorel

He rolls his eyes. Gavroche started some boxing lessons with Bahorel a few months ago, not because he needed them, but because one of the trainers is, _”Gonna be in love with me in no time.”_ Grantaire didn’t tell the kid that the trainer was literally double his age. He’s had enough disappointments in his life already. He sends a reply to Bahorel before putting his phone back down.

_ >I did, but it’s fine. Talk later._

In the excitement from the night before, Grantaire had completely forgotten what had happened with the gallery director. He waits for the crushing feeling of failure to hit him again, but it’s more just a dull pang of inadequacy. It’s easily ignorable once he remembers why Jehan is in his apartment.

“How’d you get in here?” Enjolras asks Jehan as if on cue. He’s unwrapped himself from Grantaire’s quilt enough that his head is visible.

“I have a key.”

“Who else has a key to your place?” Enjolras asks curiously. A few weeks ago, he had used the key Grantaire gave him to sneak in and try to cook him a surprise dinner only to be greeted by Bahorel, who had used his own key to drop off a couple movies Grantaire had loaned him.

“You, Jehan, Bahorel, Feuilly, Eponine, and Bossuet,” Grantaire lists off. It started before Grantaire had gotten sober as a safety precaution in case someone needed to come check on him, but Grantaire had never asked for the keys back, and no one had offered them.

“Ah,” he says, resting his head back down on a pillow. He isn’t upset about it, Grantaire can tell. He’s just unwilling to leave the bed right now.

“We have much to discuss, boys, so I’ll leave you to get a bit more disposed. I brought breakfast when you’re ready.” Jehan pats them both on the closest body part, Enjolras on the head and Grantaire on the shoulder, and climbs back off the bed. “Don’t keep me waiting too long, though. I get restless.” He smiles at them and waves vaguely as he leaves the room. Grantaire rolls closer to Enjolras and rests on his side, head pillowed on his elbow.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, refraining from asking what he really wants to know. _How was it? Did I do okay? Did I hurt you?_

“It was perfect,” Enjolras says, grinning. “Honestly, it was the best I’ve ever had.” Grantaire tries to not feel too pleased with himself but fails.

“I love you, R,” he murmurs softly, placing a hand on the side of Grantaire’s face, thumb rubbing over the arch of his cheekbone.

“I love you too. More than you can know.” Grantaire feels cheesy saying it, but it’s the truth, so fuck it. He’ll cheese it up if it’s what he wants to say.

“I don’t know about that. I’d imagine I feel just as strongly for you.” 

“Nuh uh.” Enjolras leans up and kisses him, sweet and soft. When Grantaire pulls back, he’s sure the dopey smile on Enjolras’ face is mirrored on his own. 

“How are you feeling about our plans for today?” Enjolras asks after they stop grinning at each other like schoolchildren.

“Kinda nervous, to be honest. It’s been a long time since I’ve subbed for anyone other than you.”

“We don’t have to do this, you know. If you don’t feel comfortable. No one will be upset with you if you change your mind.” Grantaire laughs and shakes his head.

“Enjolras, stop it. I’m excited about it too. I still want to do it, okay? I’m hoping it’s therapeutic like the shoot we did together when we first started dating.”

“Okay, but definitely use your word if you need to. No hesitation.”

“Oh my god, E. Be quiet. I know,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I know how this works.” Enjolras nods and holds his hands up.

“Okay, okay. I know.” Enjolras kisses him once more and falls back against the pillows.

“Let’s go. If we leave Jehan alone long enough, he’ll start rearranging the furniture.”

When they emerge from the hallway, Jehan is seated on a stool at the kitchen bar, a half-eaten bagel in front of him and sipping tea from one of the mugs Grantaire painted himself. It’s the one with a cat sporting a Salvador Dali mustache and labeled ‘Catvador Dali’. It’s Jehan’s favorite.

Grantaire is happy that someone enjoys his artist-related cat puns.

Grantaire goes to the already full coffee pot and pours two cups for him and Enjolras and grabs a cheese pastry from the box on the counter. He slides one of the cups to Enjolras who has taken a seat next to Jehan and leans his elbows on the bar, facing them.

“Thanks for breakfast,” Grantaire says, taking a bite of his pastry.

“I thought it only fair since I plan on being quite mean to you today.” Jehan grins at him. Grantaire swallows his bite before he’s chewed it completely, the nervous fluttering in his stomach starting back up. He clears his throat and takes a sip of coffee that’s still too hot.

“Right.”

“Don’t worry, R. If you don’t want to do this, we don’t have to.”

“Okay, stop right there. I _know_ this. Have you both forgotten what I do for a living?”

“Yes, and you’d be saying the same thing if it was you in our position,” Enjolras reminds him. Which, yeah, that’s true.

“Fine, let’s just say that my anticipation outweighs my nerves, alright? Let’s move on.” Grantaire makes a sweeping motion with his hand.

“Okay, how do you feel about electricity?” Jehan asks.

“I think it was a great invention, and Tesla doesn’t get enough credit. Edison was a dick.” Grantaire takes an innocent sip of coffee.

“Grantaire,” Jehan says, arching an eyebrow at him, tea suspended halfway between the bar and his mouth.

“Jehan,” Grantaire grins, and Jehan shakes his head, smile back on his face.

“Oh my, this is going to be a super fun day.” Enjolras is just sitting there, watching them as he chews on his blueberry scone. His near-imperceptible smile indicates how much he’s enjoying their exchange. “Well?” Jehan prompts.

“Like e-stim? It doesn’t do it for me. I’ve tried out the electrode setups and the conductive plugs, and neither of them were for me,” he answers honestly.

“Violet wands?” Jehan counters. That intrigues him. He’s used simple ones on other people a few times, tested them on himself beforehand, but never had them used on him personally.

“I honestly have no idea, but I’m willing.”

“And when did you do knifeplay last?” Grantaire huffs out a laugh.

“Jehan, you were the last person to use a knife on me. So, like, years.”

“And are you amenable?” Grantaire glances at Enjolras, who’s been quiet this entire time.

“Where are you with blades, E? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you use one.”

“They never really interested me. Too many variables for me, and I can produce the same effects with safer means.”

 

“Does that mean they’re a hard limit for you?” Jehan inquires. Enjolras thinks for a moment, chewing the last of his scone.

“No, I think I’d like to see you use a knife on R. We’ve never really used fear in our play, and I’d like to see it.” He looks at Grantaire. “See you.” His tone is unremarkable and unaffected, but his eyes tell a different story. There’s a heat to them now, and it is _doing things_ to Grantaire. Specifically, his pants are growing tight. “So, are knives good all around?”

“Yeah, I’m good with them,” Grantaire responds, looking to Enjolras, who nods.

“Great! I have a new toy, and I’ve been dying to try it out. I’ve tried it on myself a few times, and I think we’ll have a lot of fun with it.” Jehan goes to the door where his bag is resting on the floor and pulls out a long, rectangular box. He brings it to the bar and sets it down. “Go on, R. Open it.” Grantaire rests his coffee mug (Vincecat Van Gogh) down, and opens the latches on the front, raising the lid.

It’s a violet wand, plain, flat black, and sleek, and three attachments. The first is a clear glass dildo attachment, which okay, no. The second is a glass rake-like attachment, and the third is a thin, wicked-looking knife blade. Grantaire looks up, fear and excitement bubbling together in his blood, and points at the dildo attachment.

“No. Hard limit. No shocks in my ass.” Jehan nods.

“Of course.” He picks up the blade attachment and runs a finger lightly over the beveled edge. Surprisingly, it’s not sharp at all. The “sharpened” edge is thinner than the other, but it’s still flat instead of lethally sharp like Grantaire knows Jehan’s other knives are.

“The other two are okay, though.”

“Excellent,” Jehan grins. Grantaire replaces the blade into its position in the velvet-lining of the box, and looks up.

“So, now what?” Grantaire asks. Enjolras pushes his empty coffee mug away from him (Claws Monet), and clears his throat.

“Would you be up for a bit of a fight?”

“Against both of you?” It’s not that Grantaire is against it, but he doesn’t see how he can even begin to win. He’s only beaten Jehan a handful of times when they spar, and it’s only after they’ve both exhausted themselves almost completely. Granted, he’s gotten much better over the years since they met, but Jehan has been practicing multiple martial arts for most of his life.

Enjolras hasn’t been practicing for very long, but he’s tricky and can rapidly change direction in the middle of a move if he sees that it’s going to be countered.

So, between the two, Grantaire has no chance, especially with the tantalizing promise of a scene following the match.

“Yes, but I think I’ll let Enjolras wear you down a bit before I step in. I do like a good show.” Jehan winks at him, and Enjolras chuckles.

“I’m not as good as you, but I’ve been practicing with Jehan. He’s a great instructor.” These two together, fucking hell. Grantaire is in for it.

“Anything else you two want to ask about?” Grantaire both wants to run and get started in equal measure.

“I think I’m good. I know you well enough. Other than the violet wand and knifeplay Jehan is doing, there won’t be anything different for you,” Enjolras informs him. “We’re going to take you apart until you can’t even speak,” he adds, almost as an afterthought.

Grantaire is already hard.

“I’m good as well,” Jehan says, emanating enthusiasm. Grantaire grabs the mugs and rinses them, trying to get his erection under control. He’s glad he put on jeans so that it isn’t as apparent as if he was in sweats.

“Well, I’m going to strip my bed, since I assume we’re going to be using it.”

“Yeah, we’re gonna be using it. Here, take this too, dear,” Jehan says, handing him the box. Grantaire takes it carefully, and leaves the room. Taking a moment when he gets to his bedroom, he draws in a few calming breaths to slow his heartrate. He is never going to make it through this scene if he is already having trouble restraining himself.

Grantaire places the box on top of his bookshelf and goes to the bed removing the sheets from the night before. He smiles helplessly, remembering how Enjolras had come apart in his hands, on his cock, thinking of how gorgeous he had been. It might have been the best night he’s ever had.

He puts a new fitted sheet on his mattress and covers it with the quilt. He sees no reason to make the bed completely considering what’s going to happen on it. Not that he knows exactly, but he suspects that it will be a sheet-dirtying event.

“Grantaire! Come here!” Jehan calls down the hallway. Grantaire kicks the gathered detritus in the floor toward the far wall so no one will trip on anything and makes his way back to the living room.

Enjolras and Jehan have pushed the furniture out of the middle of the room. Enjolras is standing in the middle of the room, his shirt sleeves pushed up to his elbows. His arms are crossed in front of him, and he seems to be standing taller than usual. His posture is familiar to Grantaire; it’s the one he takes on when he’s topping someone. His stance alone is enough to make Grantaire want to fall to his knees and offer himself up to him.

But, he doesn’t. He’s going to make them both work for it, because if they’re going to torment him, he’s not going down without a fight. His blood feels electrified, like his whole body is humming.

Jehan is resting on a barstool facing them, his legs crossed lazily and his arms stretched out wide as he leans back against the bar.

“What are your colors, Grantaire?” Enjolras asks.

“Green for go, yellow for slow down, and red for stop.”

“What’s your color now?”

“Green.” Enjolras smirks and uncrosses his arms, letting them hang loose as he moves his feet into position. Grantaire does the same, waiting.

“Well, come on then. If you can make me submit, I’ll let you come whenever you want.” Grantaire can’t help but think that he’s awfully sure of himself considering Grantaire knocks him on his ass multiple times a week.

Enjolras didn’t say anything about Jehan, though, so he figures it won’t be long before he’s trying to hold both of them off at once.

“And if you win?” he asks.

“You don’t get to come until both Jehan and me have. And even then, only if I say so.” If Grantaire had to guess, he’d imagine the latter would be what happens.

He circles Enjolras slowly, waiting for an opening, but Enjolras spins with him, the anchor point of the movement.

“If you’re not going to try, then we might as well end this right now,” Enjolras says, sounding bored.

Okay, fine.

Grantaire grins and moves quickly, going for a choke move when Enjolras kicks out, catching him with a glancing blow off his left flank. He’s surprised that Enjolras is using strikes, but not enough for him to give Enjolras an opening. He knocks the next kick to the side and moves in close, striking out with his elbow and catching Enjolras on the side of the head. It’s not a hard one, but it _is_ enough to get his attention. He shoves Grantaire backward hard, hoping to unbalance him enough to fall, but Grantaire manages to stay on his feet. He leans backward to miss Enjolras’ next open-handed strike, and catches his hand, twisting it out and pushing back so that Enjolras has to pivot to avoid a dislocated shoulder. Grantaire kicks at the back of Enjolras’ knees and they buckle, taking him down. As he falls, he goes limp and pulls on Grantaire’s hold, attempting to get him on the ground again, but Grantaire manages to break his grip in time to avoid falling.

Enjolras kicks upward from his back, and Grantaire snatches his foot out of the air and pins it under his arm. When the second foot presents itself, he grabs that one too and sweeps it over the first, twisting Enjolras’ legs over one another. He falls backward and wraps his own legs around Enjolras’ and pulls the foot closest to him backward.

He doesn’t want to cripple Enjolras, so he doesn’t pull very hard, but he does hold firmly. He’s wondering if the match is over when Jehan catches his eye and smirks.

“You didn’t think we’d let you win that easily, did you?” he asks, looking down and picking at some imaginary lint on his pants. Grantaire gives a light tug on Enjolras’ ankle, eliciting a grunt, but not a tap.

“It would seem that I’m currently winning, Jehan.” At the sound of his name, Jehan’s head snaps up, burning gaze meeting Grantaire’s.

“I think you need another lesson in manners, R. You know my name, and you’d better use it.” Grantaire is exhilarated, fighting with Enjolras, mouthing off with Jehan, and knowing, _knowing_ without any doubts, that he is about to be taken down so hard he forgets his name. He grins, happy and bright and pulls again on Enjolras’ leg.

Then something strange happens. Enjolras shifts his leg just enough to press against Grantaire’s crotch, which was already half-hard anyway. Grantaire relaxes his grip minutely, but it’s too much. Enjolras pulls a leg through and catches Grantaire in the chest with it, knocking him backward. In a second, Enjolras is up and digging a foot into his side, rolling him over. He plants his knees on the small of Grantaire’s back and reaches his arms around Grantaire’s neck into a chokehold.

Grantaire can instantly feel the pressure building behind his eyes as unyielding compression is applied to his carotid arteries.

“I’ll always take you down, Grantaire. You will always be mine to do with what I please, and the sooner you accept that, the sooner you’ll be able to breathe.” Enjolras is speaking lowly into his ear, lips dragging against the shell of it with every word. Grantaire can’t breathe, can’t speak, can’t think, but a raspy noise makes its way out of his throat as he moans, unable to stop it.

“My god, you’re dirty. You love this, don’t you? You’d let me choke you out and still be hard when you came to, wouldn’t you?” Grantaire only gurgles, his vision going dim. “You’d better tap if you don’t want to pass out, R.” If he could, he would roll them over, but there is achingly perfect pressure on his cock, and he can’t think straight enough to do anything just now.

So, he taps. Enjolras laughs mockingly and releases him, throwing his head forward into the rug as he gets up. For a long moment, he just lies there and breathes. A foot digs into his hip and he rolls over to see Jehan standing over him on one side and Enjolras on the other. Looking up at these two as they stare down at him, Jehan like he’d like to eat him alive and Enjolras with a fiery gaze that burns him from inside out, he feels pinned to the spot. Enjolras’ words started his descent and suddenly, it feels too soon, too much to be slipping already, so he throws himself forward, knocking Enjolras’ legs backward and making him stumble.

Strong hands grab him by the shoulders and pull him backward until he’s lying on his back again. Grantaire brings his arms across and knock Jehan’s forearms away as his hands were reaching for his neck. He pivots his hips and aims a kick at Jehan’s back, propelling him forward and off-balance. Grantaire swings around and wraps his arms around Jehan’s neck, his legs around his waist and they fall sideways.

Grantaire locks his arms and pulls, knowing that giving an inch will be his downfall with Jehan. In the end, it doesn’t matter. Jehan uses a leg and pushes them back so that he’s lying on top of Grantaire, back to chest. He throws an elbow into Grantaire’s flank a couple times until his grip loosens as his body tells him to curl around his side to protect it.

Jehan flips over in an instant and wraps strong hands around his throat, eyes flashing dangerously.

“You’ve been so very bad already that you might not get to come at all. We might just tie you up and play with you and beat you all day long until you can’t take it anymore. And then we’ll leave you there aching until we’re ready to do it again. Maybe then, you’ll learn some manners.”

Grantaire’s eyes never leave Jehan’s as he gasps for air. Suddenly, hands are undoing his jeans and pulling them and his boxers down his legs and off. Jehan scoots back and grinds himself into Grantaire, and he moans, unable to stop himself. Enjolras drops his pants in the floor by his head and grins down at him. Jehan releases his neck and stands, allowing Grantaire to drag a full breath into his lungs unencumbered. 

“Get up,” Enjolras says firmly but quietly. He obeys, still breathing hard and fast. “Take your shirt off.” He does without comment. Then, as he’s standing naked in the middle of his living room, Enjolras in front of him and Jehan behind, they begin to touch him. Soft touches on his shoulders, his face, his clavicles. Firm squeezes on his ass, his hips. Someone bites his ear and follows it with a tongue. Grantaire’s eyes are closed and he is falling, falling, falling.

“What do you call me?” someone asks. Jehan.

“Sir,” he answers as Enjolras brings his mouth close enough to Grantaire’s for him to lick Grantaire’s lips. Grantaire leans forward instinctively, but Enjolras backs up, out of reach.

“Good boy,” Jehan says. “What do you think we should use on you first?” Grantaire doesn’t think, he just speaks.

“Flogger, Sir.” 

“Hmm, Enjolras, what do you think?” Jehan asks conversationally.

“I think his behavior has been atrocious, and he doesn’t get to ask for anything.” They both step back at the same time, all touches ceasing for a few seconds until a hard strike falls on his ass, making him yelp and jump forward.

“I’m going to use my crop on you while Enjolras takes care of that naughty mouth of yours.” Jehan shoves him, making him stumble. It takes his brain a second to understand that this is going to happen in his bedroom, so he should go there. He takes a step meaning to turn around, but before he can do anything more, Enjolras gets a hold of his hands and grips them behind his back with one hand and grabs a handful of his hair with the other, bowing him backward. He whips them around and marches Grantaire down the hall and to his bedroom where he’s abruptly shoved onto the bed. Jehan follows a few seconds later carrying his duffle bag from earlier.

Enjolras crawls onto the bed behind Grantaire and runs a hand lightly down the slope of his back, eliciting a shudder.

“Hands and knees, R. Head bowed,” he purrs, low and dirty. Grantaire pushes himself upward into position, head bowed and cock hanging hard and heavy between his legs. Jehan is pulling things out of his bag and placing them on the bed while Enjolras goes to the storage area in the closet and grabs a couple items. The noises are driving Grantaire crazy. He’s facing the headboard, so he can’t see them, and he doesn’t dare come out of position to look. Metal objects are clinking in different pitches, soft things are rustling, Jehan is opening the latches on the violet wand’s box.

Taking inventory of all the things that these two could be amassing to use on him gives him a thrill even as his skin breaks out in anxious goosebumps.

Enjolras appears in front of him on his knees and lifts his head up with two fingers under Grantaire’s chin. He’s holding a ring gag, brows raised in question.

“Green,” Grantaire answers. Enjolras kisses him roughly before pulling back and smirking when Grantaire tries to follow him once more.

“Open,” Enjolras says, settling the ring behind Grantaire’s teeth and buckling it at the back of his head. This one’s from Grantaire’s collection. The straps on it are wide black leather, and the ring is just big enough to be slightly uncomfortable. He tips Grantaire’s head back with one hand in his hair and the other on his jaw. “Beautiful,” he murmurs, eyes burning once more.

Jehan finishes whatever it is he was doing, and slides onto the bed behind Grantaire, his hands sliding down his back, nails digging into flesh. Grantaire gasps and lets out a little, “Ahh,” at the sensation. It would probably have been more, but the ring gag won’t allow it.

“Now, let’s see about those bad manners, shall we?” he asks, teasingly. Enjolras reaches an arm out toward Jehan and comes back with a set of clover clamps, and something else, which he puts on the bedside table before Grantaire can see it. When he tries to look, Enjolras grips his jaw once more and forces him to face forward.

“Eyes straight ahead, nowhere else. Understand?” Grantaire gulps dryly, but nods. “I didn’t get that. Try again.”

“Yesh, Shir,” he manages, hating how ridiculous he sounds. Enjolras seems pleased, however, and pats him on the cheek, a notch harder than necessary.

“Kneel for me.” Grantaire does, hands on his thighs. The end of a crop comes around his side and smacks one of them, making him flinch, but he doesn’t look down.

“Hands behind your back, dear,” Jehan says, and Grantaire obeys. He knows what’s coming next, his breaths quickening in anticipation. Enjolras leans down and sucks a nipple into his mouth, rolling his tongue around it and setting his teeth to it after. Grantaire sucks in a deep breath and moans. Jehan presses himself against Grantaire’s back and applies his mouth to his neck, a hand snaking around to pinch and roll at his other nipple. He wants to tip his head back and press his face against Jehan or dip his head and wrap his fingers in Enjolras’ hair, but he doesn’t. He figures he’s in for enough punishment today without adding to it.

Without any warning, Enjolras leans back and places the clamp on Grantaire’s nipple.

The pain is intense and sudden, and he jerks backward, his hands coming apart for a split second before he can catch himself and replace them.

“—uck,” he curses as well as he can.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Jehan chides. “I saw that. One more thing to pay for,” he says in a singsong voice. The fingers tormenting his still-free nipple fall away, and Enjolras clamps that one as well. Grantaire whimpers as the pain intensifies before leveling off as he breathes through it. He’s making little pained noises with every breath, but his eyes are forward and his hands are behind his back.

“Good job,” Enjolras praises him. “Back down on your hands now.” Grantaire does, the pain in his chest growing as his pectoral muscles engage to hold him upright.

“Let me give you something to focus on,” Enjolras tells him, unfastening his pants and slipping them down just enough for his cock to spill out, already hard. Enjolras strokes it a few times before guiding it into Grantaire’s mouth. Grantaire uses his tongue and lips as much as he can, concentrating on the feel and the taste of pre-come as Enjolras begins thrusting slowly into his mouth. His hands are in Grantaire’s hair, holding him fast as he slips in and out, keeping the slow pace like he has nothing else to do than fuck Grantaire’s mouth all day.

Which, he might not, Grantaire supposes.

Just as Grantaire’s eyes slip closed, completely focused on his boyfriend’s cock, now sliding almost into his throat with every snap of his hips, a sharp slap makes him jump, and then he feels it. A stinging pain on his left asscheek followed by one on the right. Jehan is following through on his promise of beating him with the crop. The smacks keep coming over his ass and thighs, gaining force as his backside heats up.

Between the pain in his nipples and the hot, stinging skin of his ass and thighs, and the feeling of Enjolras fucking his face in earnest, he loses himself. There is nothing but sensation, and it’s _perfect._

He tries to relax his throat as Enjolras speeds up, moaning between words of encouragement.

“Yes, you’re doing so well, taking my cock, fuck, yeah. Just like that, R. Perfect.” Jehan is swinging over and over, until he strokes the tip of the crop up the back of Grantaire’s balls.

“Spread your legs, Grantaire,” he instructs, and Grantaire does it without even thinking. “Good boy.” The strikes begin falling against his inner thighs. One of the hands in his hair disappears as Enjolras reaches for whatever it is he left on the table. Grantaire can’t tell what it is, but he feels it as soon as Enjolras clips it into place. A tiny weight is now linked to the chain connecting the nipple clamps, and the pain that had dulled slightly comes back with blinding force. Enjolras pulls out completely and tilts his head down to look Grantaire in the eyes.

“Still green?” he asks quietly. Grantaire nods affirmatively, still trying to overcome the need to yell. He clears his throat as well as he can, unable to keep his chest from heaving even as each movement shifts the weight on the chain. “Can you do one more?” Enjolras is holding a matching weight in his hand. Grantaire pants, little desperate noises spilling out with each exhalation. He nods again. When the second weight is clipped on, he moans brokenly.

“You’re doing such a good job.” A hand strokes the side of his face lovingly. “Would you like to make me come?” Enjolras asks him. Grantaire nods one last time. He tries to say ‘please,’ but all that comes out is a gravely ‘—eashe.’

Enjolras slips his cock into the ring gag and over his tongue once more, picking up the pace quickly. With every thrust, the weights swing and pull at his nipples until the insistent ache is a burning fire spreading across his chest to match the one on his ass and thighs.

Enjolras starts to lose his rhythm as he gets close, hips snapping his cock into the back of Grantaire’s throat with every thrust. Grantaire keeps his mouth and throat loose and lets Enjolras use him as best as he can.

Jehan drops the crop and grips Grantaire’s ass with one hand, squeezing the abused flesh tightly while his other hand grips his cock lightly and strokes. Grantaire cries out, his throat spasming around Enjolras’ cock. A few more thrusts and Enjolras gives a shout and comes, his hands once again fisted tightly in Grantaire’s dark curls. Grantaire tries to swallow as much as he can, but the ring gag renders him unable to. He can feel saliva and come dripping from the corners of his mouth and down his chin as Enjolras continues pumping into his mouth until he is spent.

Enjolras leans down and rests his forehead against the back of Grantaire’s head and pants.

“So good for me,” Enjolras tells him, still catching his breath. Jehan is kneeling flush with Grantaire’s thighs, his coarse muslin pants scratching uncomfortably against Grantaire’s burning skin. He kisses Grantaire’s back as he continues to lazily stroke Grantaire with a loose fist. It’s not enough, not even close, and Jehan knows it.

Enjolras tips his head back with his fingers to look him in the face and grins.

“You look so filthy with my come dripping from your mouth,” he says. “I wish you could see yourself.” He reaches around and unbuckles the ring gag allowing Grantaire a moment to lick his lips and work the stiffness out of his jaw. When Grantaire looks back up at him, he swipes the come from his face with a finger and slides it into Grantaire’s mouth. Grantaire sucks at his finger with vigor, trying to distract himself from the pain in his nipples and the red-hot skin of his ass.

“You’ve been so good, R.” Jehan stops stroking him and moves away. “I think you’ve been sufficiently punished. What do you think, Enjolras?” Grantaire is trying to stay as still as possible to keep the weights from swinging.

“Hmm. He did suck me off beautifully.” Enjolras reaches down and flicks one of the weights.

“Fuck! Oh fuck, jesus christ,” he chokes out, unable to help it. He moves without thinking, dropping until the weights rest on the bed for a split second, but there’s no hiding it.

“Oh, R. And you were doing so well,” Jehan says, from across the room. Grantaire looks up at Enjolras and sees him smirk.

Grantaire groans.

“Raise up and kneel,” Enjolras orders firmly. It is agony, clear and bright, but Grantaire lifts himself up and places his hands behind his back. Enjolras gets off the bed and grabs a short length of rope from the floor. He comes back and begins wrapping Grantaire’s wrists in what feels like a simple rope cuff. He tucks the ends of the rope back into the cuffs and smacks Grantaire on the ass, making him hiss out a breath. He pulls at his restraints instinctively.

Grantaire has long since slipped into subspace, but his nipples are so sensitive that he’s not entirely sure he can take the clamps for much longer.

“If you can turn and lie on your back without help, I’ll take the clamps off for you,” Enjolras tells him, and holy fuck, he cannot do it.

“I believe in you, R. Don’t you, Jehan?” Enjolras asks.

“Oh, yes. I know he can do it,” Jehan answers from where he is setting up the violet wand on the far bedside table. “He’d better.” Enjolras motions to the bed with his hands and raises an eyebrow at him.

“Color?” Enjolras asks. Grantaire breathes and steels his resolve.

“Green.”

“Good. Go ahead then.” Grantaire turns slowly on his knees so he’s facing away from the headboard and pants. As he clenches his abs and begins reclining backward, the weights shift to the left harshly and he’s falling.

“Ahhhh, fuck!” he yells as he lands on the bed and bounces, mentally cursing his expensive, springy mattress. 

“Well, that’s one way to do it,” Jehan comments wryly.

“Technically, I suppose that counts.” Enjolras sits beside him as he tries to get his breathing under control and releases first one clamp and then the other. Tendrils of pain shoot out in all directions from his nipples as the clamps are removed. Tears leak from his eyes, unbidden, as he sags against the bed in relief once the pain starts to abate.

Enjolras leans down and kisses him, sucking and biting at his bottom lip as he reaches down and gently grips Grantaire’s now-soft cock. The pleasure is a perfect contrast to what he had just endured and he sobs at the contact. Something is buckled around one of his ankles and pulled tightly to the corner of the bed. Enjolras gives him one last nip and gets off the bed. Jehan buckles his other ankle into a restraint and ties it to the low corner of the footboard just as he had with the other. When he finishes, he crawls up between Grantaire’s legs and licks a stripe up the underside of his cock. Grantaire moans and squeezes his eyes shut.

“Please, Sir, please,” Grantaire begs, desperately wanting more contact on his cock.

“Please what? Tell me what you want. Beg for it,” he says, moving his attention to Grantaire’s hip bone instead.

“Please, I need to come, I need your mouth on me, please, Sir,” Grantaire babbles.

“My mouth is on you,” he teases, licking the other hip bone in demonstration.

“On my cock, please, please, oh god, I need it, Sir. I’ll do anything,” he begs.

“Well, now, that’s interesting,” Jehan says, sitting up completely. “Don’t you think, Enjolras?”

“I do, indeed.” Enjolras returns to the bed, standing beside it with Grantaire’s favorite flogger in one hand. The red leather tips dangle menacingly. “I’ve got an idea. You asked for the flogger earlier, didn’t you?” Grantaire swallows and squirms on the bed.

“Yes, Sir,” he whispers.

“Well, I haven’t gotten to beat you with anything yet, which isn’t very fair at all. So, I’m going to flog the shit out of you, and Jehan can suck you off if he feels like it.”

“Please, yes, Sir,” Grantaire begs. “Please.”

“I’m amenable,” Jehan remarks, smirking. “But you are not to come. As per our earlier agreement, you aren’t allowed until I do.”

“Yes, Sir, I know. Please,” Grantaire says, wanting nothing more than to feel Jehan’s lips around his cock. His whole body is aching for it.

“Very well.” Jehan leans over him and takes him all the way down to the base in one go. Grantaire has just long enough to groan out a, “Fucking hell,” before Enjolras brings the flogger down on his chest. The first few strikes, like Jehan did with the crop, aren’t especially punishing, but the longer he goes, the harder the strikes fall.

Grantaire is reduced to a babbling mess in no time at all. Jehan’s mouth is all heat and wet suction, and Enjolras is proving once again how expert he is with a flogger. He works up to an unrelenting pace across Grantaire’s chest, his already sore nipples catching many of the strikes, and everything is _perfect._ He relaxes into the pain and tries to lift his hips up into Jehan’s mouth, but his held fast by Jehan’s strong hands.

His head is a haze of endorphins and he drifts, begging and pleading for release without thinking. Jehan sucks hard and Grantaire’s cock slips into his throat. Between the cracks of the flogger and the velvet lips sucking at him, his orgasm builds in his belly and he can feel everything going tight as he tries not to come.

Jehan stops abruptly. Grantaire pants, more tears leaking from his eyes.

“Please, oh god, please,” he cries. Enjolras’ strikes slow and stop altogether as he breathes harshly and sniffles.

“Oh, no, I don’t think so,” Jehan laughs. “We still have to play with my new toy, but the tears are appreciated.” The violet wand had slipped his mind completely under Jehan and Enjolras’ attentions. He flexes his arms to work some of the numbness out of them from being trapped under him but can do nothing about the static pinpricks working their way up from his hands and into his forearms.

“Grantaire, color?” Enjolras is beside him again, stroking his face.

“Green. But, I need my arms out. They’re numb.” Enjolras helps him sit up and the rope is gone in seconds, cut and dropped on the floor. Enjolras rests back against the headboard and pulls Grantaire back against him so his head is resting on Enjolras’ chest.

He flexes his fingers, and eventually the numbness is gone. Enjolras strokes his arms and rubs at his shoulders until his muscles are loose once more.

“Color?” Enjolras asks, once more.

“Green.” The haze of his impending orgasm has faded slightly, enough for him to think.

“Excellent,” Jehan remarks, plugging the violet wand into the outlet by the bed and straddling Grantaire’s hips. He’s placed the tiny rake attachment to it, and he looks so excited that Grantaire can’t help but smile at him, even if he wants to come so badly it physically _hurts._

“We’ll start slow and work our way up.” He brings the tips of the attachment against Grantaire’s chest, and Grantaire gasps. The sensation isn’t exactly painful, but it _is_ strange. A warm, tingling sensation follows the wide path that the rake tips make down his chest and over his abdomen. A faint light jumps between his skin and the contact points of the rake as it moves, a low hum barely audible. Jehan drags it across his hips and down one thigh before mirroring his movements in reverse back up Grantaire’s body on the other side. When he gets back up to Grantaire’s chest, he stops and looks up.

“How do you feel?” he asks.

“It’s strange. I expected it to hurt more,” he answers honestly.

“Oh, honey. Just wait.” Jehan flicks a dial on the handle and makes the same path over his body. This time the heat _is_ painful, but nothing compared to the flogger or the crop. It’s not even in the same ballpark as the nipple clamps. Jehan’s eyes flick up to his after he finishes the second trail, and he nods.

“Green,” he says. Jehan smiles and flicks the same knob. This time, when the tips get close to his skin, the electricity pops and crackles across his skin. He goes completely still when Jehan gets close to his crotch this time, because fuck that thing on his cock.

Jehan just chuckles and continues down further to his foot. He breathes through it, leaning heavily on Enjolras and letting his eyes slip closed. Enjolras leans over and kisses his neck, biting his earlobe when he gets near it. Grantaire moans, praying for Jehan to put some pressure on his cock when he moves back up to straddle him.

Jehan makes an agonizingly slow ascent back up his body, and hovers above him for a few seconds, upping the setting on the wand once more. He places the tips of the rake near Grantaire’s skin and presses his hips into Grantaire’s bare cock insistently. The wand cracks and white hot pain erupts from the skin under the tips. Grantaire instinctively jerks away from the feeling, but Enjolras holds him tightly. Jehan rubs his hips harshly against Grantaire’s as he touches him once more with the wand tip.

The wand cracks once more right above his right nipple, a spark emanating from each rake tip.

“Ahh, jesus,” he hisses out, once more trying to move away. Enjolras shushes him even as his arms grip Grantaire more tightly. He looks down at his skin expecting to see burn marks, but nothing is there.

Jehan looks positively thrilled.

“I think we should use a different attachment, don’t you?” he says, switching off the wand and twisting the rake to remove it. Grantaire looks over at the box, where the dildo attachment has been taken out completely, and watches as Jehan replaces the rake into the box and twists the blade attachment onto the wand, turning it back on once it’s in place.

“This will be _different_ than the other attachment,” Jehan says, dialing the setting back down. “Color?” Grantaire swallows, feeling apprehensive, but he’s still curious as well, so he answers honestly.

“Green, Sir.” His voice is soft and breathy and unrecognizable to himself.

“Good. Hold very still for me.”

Jehan doesn’t say anything more, but he does smile before moving back up to rest astride Grantaire’s hips, and consequently, his cock.

This time, when Jehan brings the tip of the blade down, it’s slightly more painful than the rake was at the same setting. His brain supplies that the decrease in surface area is the reason, but the sensations filtering through his brain don’t let him focus on practicalities.

Jehan slides the blade across his skin as he watches warily, a tingling path left in its wake, but no redness or outward sign is visible. Enjolras is still holding him tightly, his head bent down beside Grantaire’s own as he watches Jehan work as well. Grantaire can feel his arousal in the small of his back, but doesn’t move to press back against him, doesn’t dare disobey Jehan.

After a few more stinging lines have been laid across his chest, Jehan ups the dial and simply brings the tip of the blade close to Grantaire’s skin. When the spark jumps from the tip to his skin, he jumps and yelps. A hot, stabbing pain erupts from the impact point, intense and jolting, but it dissipates quickly.

“Color?” Jehan asks once more.

“Green,” he says. The constant press of Jehan into his hips, the chilling anticipation of where the next spark will fall, and Enjolras all around him has him practically vibrating. 

Jehan taps at him again, not even sliding the edge against him, but it’s enough. Another spark and the resultant pop stabs into him, and he leans back further into Enjolras to put more space between his skin and the blade.

“Ahh, fuck,” he says.

“Be still, R,” Jehan admonishes softly, and does it again. Grantaire can’t help it, he moves again, as much as he can manage.

The next time, Grantaire pulls away from it before it comes close enough to spark, but Jehan moves forward insistently until the tip touches him and then slides it laterally. If Grantaire had been blindfolded, he would swear that Jehan was cutting him.

“Oh my god, fucking hell,” Grantaire gasps out, panting. Jehan just grins at him and reaches down to grab Grantaire’s cock tightly, stroking him quickly to bring his half-deflated erection back. A moan escapes his throat and he tips his head back into Enjolras.

“Mmmm…oh FUCK.” Jehan keeps stroking him, but drags the blade down the middle of his stomach slowly. The smell of ozone permeates Grantaire’s mind along with the fogginess of subspace as more of the same continues. Jehan alternates between tapping him and dragging the tip along his skin, laughing delightedly as he pulls both moans and cries of pain from him in equal measure. Enjolras is sucking bruises into his neck and whispering filth into his ear.

“You are so beautiful when you’re hard and aching and hurting. I love it. I could lie here and hold you down all day while Jehan torments you. Look at you, you’re helpless and still hard. I bet you’d even beg for more.” Grantaire loses himself completely then under Jehan’s merciless hands and Enjolras’ dirty words.

“Make him beg you for more, Jehan,” Enjolras says.

“Oh, yes,” Jehan agrees, ceasing all contact with his cock at once. “Beg me to continue.”

“Please keep going. Please, I need it, I need you to hurt me, touch me, please, Sir.” The words spill out of him and bring tears along with them.

He’s rewarded with a long, hot line drawn along the crease where his leg meets his pelvis and a firm hand around his cock. It’s too much, he knows he can’t take it for much longer.

“I can’t, oh fuck,” he loses his voice as Jehan taps his leg, sending a jolt through him. “Fucking, oh god. I can’t take it, too much, fuck,” he trails off as he watches Jehan tease the tip of the blade over the head of his cock, never getting close enough for an arc to occur, but threatening nevertheless. Grantaire doesn’t even breathe, much less move.

“I think I’d like to fuck you now,” Jehan tells him, moving the wand away from his cock and laughing when Grantaire visibly sags in relief. “Would you like that?”

“Yes, Sir,” Grantaire says, actually meaning it. After such a long and intense scene, he’s aching for it, for anything.

“Enjolras, would you like to play with the wand? Get a feel for it?” Jehan asks, dialing the intensity back.

“Of course,” Enjolras answers, reaching for it. Jehan undresses and goes to his bag and grabs a bottle of lube and a condom. Grantaire needs to come to badly that every single cell in his body seems to be screaming for it. His ankles are unbuckled quickly, deft fingers rubbing each ankle briefly where the cuffs had bitten into his skin. Jehan pulls him down further on the bed and bends his knees up into the position he wants.

Slicking up his fingers, Jehan takes no time at all to work one into him, stroking his cock the entire time. Enjolras trails the blade tip over Grantaire’s arm and up to his shoulder, eliciting a shudder. The downgraded stinging seems to feed his arousal, and he moans as they work him together.

“Ah, please, please, please,” he chants as the buzzing pain and electric spikes from Jehan working his prostate mix together into a heady combination.

“Ask me nicely, and I’ll fuck you,” Jehan murmurs once he’s worked Grantaire open on three fingers.

“Please fuck me, Sir. Please, please,” Grantaire asks. His very blood seems to be bubbling and buzzing under his skin, and he _needs_ it.

“Okay, love, whatever you say.” Jehan rolls the condom over himself and wastes no time in pushing into Grantaire in one, long, slow thrust. Grantaire groans, unable to stop himself, his eyes falling shut even as Enjolras circles his nipple lightly with the tip of the blade, the skin there tingling deliciously.

Jehan fucks him ruthlessly, forcing him into Enjolras, and soon, the wand has been forgotten completely, switched off and left on the bed. Enjolras reaches between them and undoes his pants once more, lifting his hips up for more friction against Grantaire’s upper back. Jehan lifts one of his legs up and drives his cock down into him, a strand of auburn hair escaping from his ponytail and falling over one eye as he continues his unyielding pace.

If Grantaire could use one word to describe Jehan, it would be unyielding.

Enjolras reaches around and ghosts a hand around Grantaire, not quite hard enough for any friction, feathery touches only serving to make him more desperate for release.

“Fucking hell, please, please, let me come, Sir. Please, Sir,” Grantaire pleads, giving no indication to whom he’s speaking, but meaning Enjolras in every syllable.

Enjolras knows, and Jehan seems to as well.

“Jehan, look at him. Is he desperate enough yet?” Jehan casts a look over him, eyes raking over his face, the angry red skin of his chest. He smirks.

“No, I don’t think so,” he huffs out, breaths coming fast as he keeps thrusting.

“Hmm, I guess you’ll just have to be good and wait, R,” Enjolras says, teasing his fingers of the hand not on Grantaire’s cock around the curve of his lips. Grantaire groans and tries to move away when Enjolras’ grip tightens around him.

“You have no idea how good you look right now, completely fucking filthy and desperate. I’d like to keep you like this all the time. Always ready for me to fuck or beat or both.” Grantaire can no longer tell which way is up. His head is one continuous stream of pleasure and desperation as Jehan throws back his head and digs his fingers into Grantaire’s hips with bruising pressure as he comes.

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” Jehan gasps, still thrusting. “You take it so beautifully,” he says breathlessly. Enjolras flicks his wrist and twists his grip just the way Grantaire likes, lifting his hips up and rutting against him.

“Can you take me too, R?” Enjolras asks.

“What? Fuck, oh my god.” Enjolras’ grip falters.

“Color?”

“Green,” Grantaire manages to say. He doesn’t care, he just wants to fucking _come._

With a dexterity Grantaire didn’t know Enjolras possessed, he turns Grantaire around so he’s straddling Enjolras’ hips and wraps a hand around his throat.

“I’m going to fuck you, and then you can come.” Grantaire, completely unrestrained by anything but Enjolras’ hand, feels pinned to the spot. Every second of buildup has led to this point. Even with Jehan there, in the end, it’s still about Enjolras and Grantaire.

Enjolras moves his hand up and Grantaire obeys, lifting himself up and then sliding back down onto Enjolras’ cock. It’s not the best angle for him, and Enjolras can tell, even as he moans and begins thrusting upward, so Enjolras pushes him back at the neck until he’s leaning backward and the constant pressure against his prostate is back, just as it was with Jehan. Grantaire sees stars, unable to hold back his moans or even really see anything other than Enjolras’ face.

He focuses on that as he moves up and down, that delicious unending pressure seems to build and build until he can’t hold back anymore. Jehan is suddenly pressed against his back, long, slender fingers wrapped around his cock and stroking with just the right amount of grip.

“I-I can’t, I’m gonna, fuck, please let me come,” he half begs, half cries. Enjolras speeds up, and so does Jehan, and Grantaire can’t take it. “Oh, god, I’ve been so good, please.” 

“Yes, you have, my R. Come for me, come on my cock,” Enjolras whispers, and Grantaire comes immediately, unable to even make a noise. His body goes rigid, held up only by Enjolras and Jehan. He hears Enjolras groan out a few curses not long after and then he’s being laid down gently.

He’s floating, dopamine flooding every neuron in his brain, and he can’t move. Everything is hazy as hands clean him, voices tell him nice things, and eventually, he is cradled in the middle of the bed on both sides. He presses his face against Enjolras’ neck, he will always know Enjolras, and lets Jehan wrap himself around his other side.

The sun is well on its way westward by the time he comes back to awareness.

“Hello, love,” Jehan says, running fingers through his hair gently and kissing his temple.

“How are you feeling?” Enjolras asks, stroking light touches down his side and skating across his ribs.

“Sore. And tired. And hungry.” His voice is gravely and thick, throat sore from being fucked and possibly from screaming.

“I can fix that,” Jehan says, patting him on the hip and getting up. “Back in a jiff.”

“He’s very helpful, that one,” Grantaire observes, and Enjolras smiles, amused.

“Very. How was everything?”

“Overwhelming, but I don’t think I’ve come that hard in years.”

“But did you like it? Anything you didn’t like?”

“The fucking weights on the nipple clamps. It was okay in the moment, but I’m not sure I want to use them again.”

“You know that you _can_ use a color other than green, right?” Enjolras asks.

“Yeah, I know that. They were fine this time. If I’d wanted them off before they came off, I would have said so. And I’ve used colors other than green with you before.”

“Yes, I remember. When I botched up that rope setup we tried. And that time with the candles.”

“Yeah, the candles. That’ll be a funny one to tell the grandkids.” Enjolras gives him a funny look, and then smiles brightly.

“What?” Grantaire asks.

“You usually don’t reference anything long term with us. You’re very careful about it.”

“Blame it on being fucked six ways to Sunday.”

“What will our grandchildren say?” Grantaire laughs, enjoying the look of unadulterated happiness on Enjolras’ face.

“I love you. C’mere.” Grantaire wraps a hand around the back of Enjolras’ head and pulls him down for a kiss.

“You two are so adorable,” Jehan says, reentering the room. He means it too, not in a mocking way or superficially. He’s sincere.

“Thank you, _Jehan_ ,” Grantaire says, emphasizing his name. Jehan rolls his eyes and offers Grantaire a bottle of water and another cheese pastry.

“Well, that _is_ my name.”

“Unless your name is Sir,” Grantaire reminds him.

“Yes, unless it’s Sir,” he agrees. They all eat in Grantaire’s bed, pastries and baked goods from earlier, and then they cuddle together, sometimes talking and sometimes resting in silence.

When Grantaire declares that he needs more in his stomach than bakery fare, they all move to the living room to order pizza. They watch one of Grantaire’s many old Godzilla movies and eat and chat like friends are wont to do, and then, once the movie is over, Grantaire blurts out, “Hey, Jehan, do you know any local artists who might be interested in joining a coop gallery?”

Jehan smiles at him and nods.

“Yes, I can think of a few.” He narrows his eyes at Grantaire. “Why?”

***

Jehan goes home after giving Grantaire a lot of advice and even more contact information for people who might be interested in a new business venture. Enjolras interjects ideas here and there throughout the night, and Grantaire feels very loved and not alone.

He and Enjolras shower together for the second night in a row and make the bed together. Thoughts of long-term cohabitation linger in Grantaire’s mind, unable to be chased away. He feels like he’s on the precipice of something, possibly multiple somethings, and the anxiety is there, like it always is under the surface, but he’s also happy, content. He wraps himself around Enjolras, playing the part of the big spoon and nuzzles his face against Enjolras’ neck, soft, still-damp tendrils of blonde hair brushing against his forehead.

He hums happily and drifts off to sleep, one arm pillowed under Enjolras’ head and the other holding him tightly against him. Grantaire can’t remember ever feeling so relaxed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! Thank you for reading. If you want to know more about violet wands, let me know! I love them, and there are some really good resources out there.
> 
> This is the last fic I had planned when I started this series however many years ago it was, so I'm going to be taking a break from this 'verse and work on something else for a bit. BUT, if anybody has any prompts for me or ideas for something short (haha, short, right, like I can write short things), then leave it for me here or on [tumblr](http://agentxinfinity.tumblr.com). Thanks to everyone who left kudos or a comment; I love you all. Let me know what you think, and keep an eye out for something completely different from me in the next few weeks. <3<3


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